Sunday, July 17. — Rode over to see General Barlow and General Hayes. Also saw John Perry. In the evening Tom Sherwin, Frank Weld, Captain Phillips and Captain Davis came over to see me. About nine o’clock we were moved to the second line, as it was reported that the enemy were massing in our front, and were going to attack us in the morning. No attack was made, however.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
17th. Spent the day very quietly in camp, over Independents and other papers. Wrote home and to Lucy Randall Campbell.
Sunday, July 17.—I went down to the train to see Miss W. off. After she left we were informed that there was a raid near West Point, and that Miss W. will reach there in time to meet it. It is useless to think of going any place and getting rid of the enemy, as they seem to have it in their power to overrun the whole country.
Miss W. and I have agreed that, if either should lose our clothes, the one spared would share with the other. The enemy have a particular liking for ladies’ wardrobes. I presume they send them to their lady-loves in the North. I wonder how they feel in their stolen finery!
I do not suppose that the men would rob us as they do if they were not incited by the importunities of their women. Many letters, taken from dead Federals on the battle-fields, contain petitions from the women to send them valuables from the South. One says she wants a silk dress; another, a watch; and one writer told her husband that now was the time to get a piano, as they could not afford to buy one. “O shame, where is thy blush!” What a commentary on the society of “the best government the world ever saw!” Would we had the pen of a Thackeray to delineate the angelic and supereminent virtues of this great people!
On my return I met a friend from Mobile, Dr. Henderson, the surgeon of a hospital in that place. He brought me a letter from home, which was gladly received. He has been visiting the army, and intends remaining here till the expected great battle comes off. He is an Englishman, and came out from England last fall. On his arrival he received a commission in our army.
This afternoon we went to a funeral in the Methodist Church. Dr. Adams officiated, as the deceased was an Episcopalian— young Colston of Louisville. He was the color-bearer of a Kentucky regiment, and a gallant soldier. He was buried with the full honors of war. The day was very lovely. We walked round that sacred spot, the soldiers’ graveyard, and I saw many a familiar name on the head-boards of the graves—the occupants now calmly sleeping, heedless of the cannon’s roar, and the peal of musketry:
“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all the beauty, all that wealth o’er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour,—
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.”
Though no towering monument is there to mark their last resting-place, it matters little, Nature shall adorn them with her choicest sweets:
“And oft upon the midnight air
Shall viewless harps be murmuring there.”
July 17th. Sunday morning. Late last night we were ordered to march. Estimated we marched about five miles, when we came to a halt in a wooded field. Fine large trees. During the night we heard the rattling of the wheels of artillery and wagons, being driven very rapid, going south. This morning report reached us that it was the enemy’s guns and wagons. No doubt there is hard work before us. Don’t just know our present location except that we are somewhere in the Loudon Valley, Virginia. Orders for Sunday morning inspection. It won’t be a very clean one. After that duty was performed we rested and slept. Large stacks of grain were burned in this vicinity to prevent the enemy from getting. It made a hot fire and a great loss. It will no doubt cause much suffering among the people. Women and children in these parts must suffer by the war which is a cruel thing. I am sorry for them. As soon as they hear the reports of the guns, they take to the cellars for protection. Shot and shell go through many houses that are in range of the guns. I have seen many houses that were damaged by the field guns. This Sunday night finds us in the woods, cool and good air, while the sun was red hot, out in the open.
July 17 — We were relieved from picket this evening, and returned to our camp on the Nottoway.
June 17, 1864.
After erecting some good works at Roswell (the best we have yet built), capable of holding at least 25,000 men, we were provided with three days’ rations and cartridges “ad libitum,” for another of what an Augusta paper calls “Sherman leap-frog-like advance.” Our corps is the extreme left of the army. We moved out this morning, our brigade in advance of our division, and Osterhaus and Smith’s Divisions following on the Decatur road. Did I tell you in my last among the “locals,” that these Roswell factories have been turning out 35,000 yards per day of jeans, etc., for the Confederate Army, that there is the greatest abundance of blackberries and whortleberries here, that one of the 48th Illinois was drowned in the Chattahoochie while bathing, and that of several hundred factory girls I have seen, hardly one who is passably handsome? Some fine fat ones, and a few neat feet, but they are not “clipper built,” and lack “get up” and “figure heads.”
We moved six miles without meeting a Rebel, and then only a squadron of cavalry that lacked a devilish sight of being “chivalry,” for they more than ran without just cause. We only went two miles farther and then bivouacked. Our brigade was thrown half a mile in front and across the road. We put up a rail barricade across the road and a temporary rail-work along our front, and then abandoned ourselves to the longings of our breadbaskets, and desisted not until every man was in himself a miniature blackberry patch. The boys brought me pint after pint of great black fellows they had picked in the shade of dense woods or on a steep bank, and I assure you they disappeared without an exception. This road, the last 10 days, has been filled with refugee citizens running from the Yankees. An old gentleman in whose yard the reserve pickets have stacked their arms, told me that all the men of his acquaintance over 45 years old are, and always have been, Unionists, and are to-day ready and willing to give up slavery for our cause. I have been a deluded believer in the hoax of fine “Georgia plantations,” but I assure you I am now thoroughly convalescent. I haven’t seen five farm houses equal to Mrs. James—, and only one that showed evidences of taste. That was where I saw the Rebel General Iverson dead among the flowers. The country is all hilly, and the soil, where there is any, is only fit for turnips. The timber is all scrub oak and pine, and some more viney bushes peculiar to the climate.
I notice some of the white moss hanging from the trees, like that there was so much of at Black river. The 16th Corps is on our right moving on a parallel road, and the 23d joins them. I don’t know whether our other corps have crossed yet or not.
Martinsburg, Virginia, July 17 (Sunday), 1864.
Dear Mother: — I am much obliged for your letter by Colonel Comly. Glad you still are in good health. We are pretty busy now trying to prevent the escape of the Rebel raiders who have plundered Maryland. . . . The weather is very warm but we have good breezes and excellent water in this region so that campaigning is not unpleasant.
I notice Mitchell’s name is often mentioned in connection with Sherman’s army. He has a fine position. I trust he will come safely out of it. — Love to all.
Affectionately, your son,
R.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Martinsburg, July 17 (Sunday), 1864.
Dearest: — A week ago, about this time, we were enjoying our pleasant ride like young lovers on the Kingston Pike. Now we are widely separated.
I am semi-sick — that is the boil I told you I was threatened with on my hip is actively at work. The worst is over with it. I am lying on my blankets in the barroom of a German drinking saloon that was gutted by the Rebels. The man is a refugee but his excellent frau is here ready to do anything in the world for a bluecoat. She wants me to go [to] a chamber and a clean bed, but I like the more public room better.
Half my brigade went this morning to General Crook, thirty miles east. We go in a day or two. The combinations to catch the Rebels seem to me good, but I expect them to escape. Raiding parties always do escape. Morgan was foolhardy and Streight lacked enterprise. They are the only exceptions.
You will probably see some correspondence about your flag gift in the papers. Don’t blush, it’s all right. — “S’much.” Love to all.
Ever, darling, your
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
Colonel Lyon’s Letters.
July 17, 1864.—I received a dispatch from General Granger, who is at Decatur, sent through a courier from Larkinsville, saying that if the rebels were crossing the river I must concentrate and hold out as long as possible.
I have heard from Colonel Chapman. He had heard that we were falling back towards Woodville, and had concentrated his detachment at Whitesburg. I fear this scare will get into the newspapers and alarm our friends at home. I expect to see a statement published to the effect that Forrest, with 15,000 men and 20 pieces of artillery, forced his way across the Tennessee river here, cut the 13th to pieces, killing, capturing and scattering the whole command, and that Colonel Lyon is among the missing—supposed to be killed, as he was seen to fall from his horse. Not much! Be easy about us. I shall fight all that come, and unless they have a good deal of artillery I shall successfully resist the passage of this river by any force short of an army. I don’t think we are in any great peril, although we may be compelled to do some fighting. We are now very well fortified against a river attack, and are building blockhouses, artillery proof, in which we could stand a siege if driven to it. When these are completed we are safe from capture.
My trip last week, although fatiguing, was very interesting. I rode half a mile under a precipice called Paintrock, several hundred feet high, along a narrow bridle path, running under projections of the cliff frequently, and a precipice 50 to 100 feet deep below us, at the bottom of which is the river. In some places it was dark enough for late twilight, although it was the middle of a very bright afternoon.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JULY 17TH.—Dry—the sky bright and brassy—the gardens almost ruined.
Last evening definite news came in the Washington Chronicle of the 14th. Gen. Early was recrossing the Potomac with an immense amount of stores levied in the enemy’s country, including thousands of horses, etc. This, the Chronicle thinks, will be beneficial to theUnited States, as recruiting will be stimulated, to punish us for making prize of provisions, etc. in the enemy’s country, after the enemy had despoiled us of everything in their power!
Troops are still going up towardWashington from our army, as well as from the enemy’s beforePetersburg; and Early, after bestowing his prizes in a place of safety, may return toMaryland andPennsylvania for another supply. That may be the best policy to get the enemy off our soil. His cutting off communications with the South will not signify much, if we can derive supplies from the North.
